Harry Potter and the Mystery at Hogwarts
by Lorna1
Summary: My first Fanfiction story! Would appreciate anyone and everyone's opinion on it!!! (R&R please!)
1. Default Chapter

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Disclaimer: All characters, quite obviously, belong to J.K. Rowling, apart from the few that will appear! 

Chapter1

A great feeling of relief flooded through Harry as he stepped onto Platform 9 3/4. Now he was really going back to Hogwarts for his fifth year. He had spent a lot of the summer with Ron at the Weasley's house. He thought it would make life a lot easier if he bothered the Dursely's as little as possible - and it had. He had enjoyed it, even though Mrs. Weasley had spent most of the holiday just looking at him and mumbling something that sounded like 'poor boy'. It had been relatively quiet in the house; Ginny was staying at a school-friends' and Fred and George were so preoccupied with starting their joke shop, it seemed like they didn't even live there anymore.

Despite being in a place where Harry felt at home, he hadn't been able to get rid of the worry that had been on his mind all summer. Harry knew that Voldemort was back. Only no one had seen hide nor hair of him since the end of the last school year. The Ministry had sent every wizard and witch they could spare, and many they couldn't, to every conceivable place, but Voldemort obviously did not want to be found.

This worried many people more than knowing exactly where he was. If they couldn't find him, there was no way of knowing what he was planning next.

Harry must have been rather preoccupied in his thoughts as he meandered alongside the train, as Ron practically screaming at him brought him back down to earth with a bump:

'Hello! Harry! HARRY!'

'There's no need to shout - I'm right here.'

'You were miles away. I was ready to start calling for help - thought You-know-who was getting a bit of a head start on us this year. Thought you were under the Imperius curse or something.'

'No,' replied Harry, sounding a little tired and amused by the notion. 'To be honest, I don't know if You-know-who will try anything at all this year. I mean, everyone knows he's back and the school's going to be practically crawling with aurors. He wouldn't stand half a chance.'

'You don't think Mad-Eye Moody'll be back to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, do you?' Ron's eyes lit up at the prospect of more lessons like last year. Until Harry pointed out that it wasn't _actually_ Mad-Eye teaching them. 

'And besides, he's probably been re-enlisted by the Ministry. They'll want all the experienced help they can get' continued Harry.

Ron opened his mouth to reply, but he didn't get the chance. At that point a figure was hurtling down the entire length of the platform, hollering, 'Harry! Ron!' Harry couldn't even respond when Ginny threw herself at him and flung her arms around his neck.

'Nice to see you too, Ginny. Can you let go now please - I'm having trouble breathing.' Hermione strolled up behind her, carrying Crookshanks in her arms and chuckling at Harry's ruffled hair and his glasses, which now lay askew.

Harry straightened himself up as Hermione approached.

'Had a good summer?' enquired Hermione. Ginny began to coo over Pigwidgeon, who was whizzing around the cage in circles at an alarming rate and hooting shrilly. Ron bashed the cage and threw an old blanket over it in an attempt to make the little owl be quiet for a while. It failed miserably.

'It was alright,' answered Ron, exasperatedly. 'Would have been better if there weren't two Ministry members in the house. Percy's been driving everyone mad. Honestly - if it's not cauldrons it's something else just as daft. He spent an entire week writing a report on Hippogriff dung. As if there aren't more important things to be doing. And Dad's just been complaining about his overtime and the extra work he's been doing - liasing with muggle officials. He wants a break, but 'his superiors have insisted that muggle relations be upheld'. Or something like that.'

'It sounds like you just haven't escaped the chaos - or the Ministry workers, come to that,' sympathised Hermione.

'And you still haven't,' added Ginny, tugging on Harry's sleeve and pointing to the far end of the platform. The all stood up straight, straining to see what Ginny had caught a glimpse of through the crowd.

'It's Cornelius Fudge,' said Ron, sounding more than a little surprised.

'What's he doing here?' queried Ginny.

'Apparently see seeing that woman off,' observed Hermione rather sarcastically. Fudge was shaking hands with a lady dressed in lilac robes. He seemed to be saying something to her, and she was agreeing. 

'Who? Who?' asked Ron impatiently. 'I can't see!' he wailed, jumping up and down. Eventually he gave up and stood on top of his trunk.

'Oh, that's who!' he said, sounding very knowledgeable. 'Who is it?'

'I don't know,' answered Ginny.

'Pass,' replied Harry.

'She must be important for Fudge to be here with her,' stated Hermione.

The lady stepped, rather tentatively, onto the Hogwarts Express. Fudge stayed for a moment, and then he caught sight of Harry and the rest of the group staring at him. Fudge waved nervously, gave a half-hearted smile, then rushed off the platform, as if he had just remembered an urgent appointment.

'That was strange,' said Ron. 'It's not like him to be within a 20 mile radius of you, Harry, and not come and say 'hi''.

'Yes. It was kind of odd…' replied Harry, thoughtfully. Any thought he had had was now dislodged from his mind by Hermione shepherding them onto the train.

'We have to get on now or all the best seats will be taken,' she urged, leading Ron by the wrist towards the door.

They spent 10 minutes wandering up and down the train as Hermione peered into each compartment and pronounced it 'too small', 'too cold' or 'too eww'.

'Too eww?' puzzled Ron.

'There's chewing gum stuck to the wall,' explained Hermione.

'Look, it really doesn't matter where we sit - the compartments are all identical anyway, ' justified Harry, 'I'm perfectly happy so long as Malfoy is a respectable distance away.'

'How far is that?' asked Ginny.

'No distance can be too far away from that evil git,' answered Ron.

Hermione finally relented to the protests of sore legs (too much walking) and dizzy heads (going round in circles) and the group flung themselves into the nearest compartment. Before long the train was moving and the city was left far behind them. Hermione seemed content - there was a distinct lack of chewing gum - and Harry was pleased he had not yet had his annual 'before-we've-even-reached-the-school' encounter with Malfoy.


	2. Arrival at Hogwarts

Chapter 2

However, Harry's satisfaction did not last long. Pretty soon the drawl of one of his least favourite people could be heard floating down the corridor and in through the open compartment door. 

'Of course, Father's being heavily relied-upon by Fudge. He's in great demand right now. Says it's the least he can do. After all, that nit of a Minister couldn't even bungle his way out of a paper bag, let alone do anything vaguely competently…'

Malfoy's voice got louder the closer to the door he came. A second later he was leaning against the doorframe, looking directly at Harry and finishing his conversation.

'…Rather like someone else I could name, eh, Potter?'

Harry glanced up from the book he was reading, acknowledged Draco's presence, and then continued with chapter 8.

'Nothing to say, Potter? Cat got your tongue?' Crookshanks seemed to resent the use of his species name in such a derogatory statement and opened one eye. The disgruntled cat looked Malfoy up and down, and must've decided he really wasn't worth it. The lazy animal closed its eye again, and ignored the noise.

Ron and Hermione glared at the Slytherin fifth year and his accomplices, Crabbe and Goyle, who stood on either side of him, like bodyguards.

'I suppose the legendary Harry Potter would rather be a hero with 'nobody' friends, instead of risking being outshone by someone he calls 'amigo',' continued Malfoy, obviously trying to wind Harry up. But Harry really couldn't be bothered and didn't rise to the bait.

'Don't you have to be somewhere?' pondered Harry,' Like, I don't know, sticking a first year's head out the window?'

'You mustn't think very highly of me if you think I would stoop to such a level as the one you're at,' said Draco.

'You're right - I don't think very highly of you,' retorted Harry. 

'We got bored with that, anyway. Didn't we, Draco,' said Goyle, who began laughing. He stopped sharply when Malfoy elbowed him in the side.

This display of obvious animosity on Harry's part seemed to be a little much for Draco, who, in a moment, had pulled his wand out and was pointing it at Harry. Harry had, at the same instant leapt from his seat and drawn his 'weapon'. Neither of them backed down, so there they stood - Harry in the compartment and Draco in the corridor-, throwing harsh looks at each other.

This was until a voice from the other end of the carriage made Malfoy turn and look to see the source. Harry hastily shoved his wand back into his robes, so when the speaker arrived they found Draco brandishing his wand against Harry.

'You, boy!' the person said as they approached.

'Yes Professor,' said Draco, acting as innocently as he could, given the circumstances. He looked down and realised he was still holding his wand. Guiltily he hid it behind his back.

'Malfoy?'

'Yes Professor.' Draco seemed thoroughly confused.

'Thought so. Get lost.'

A very baffled look spread across Malfoy's face as the grin slowly dissipated. 

'I said go away. Don't make me repeat myself a third time.'

With this, Draco swaggered away, his cronies in tow. He looked at Harry as he turned. Harry could read him like the book he had just dropped - 'You've been saved this time. Just you wait…' Harry didn't care what he would be waiting for - he was too intrigued by the woman standing in the place of Draco. It was the woman they had seen with Fudge on the platform. Her lilac robes were pristine and her mid-brown hair was twisted round into a bun, which was clipped securely in place. Her face seemed full of energy, and yet as if she was older than she appeared. 

It took a moment for Harry to realise he was staring. He blinked and quickly took his seat again. She was still standing there, looking at him. He felt his face turn red with embarrassment.

'Would you care to tell me what that was about?' asked the lady.

Hermione took this chance to say how intrinsically nasty Draco is, how he's always up to something and how he can't stand Harry being more popular than he is and better at Quidditch.

'I suppose he can't really help it,' said the woman sympathetically,' It's probably genetic.' The group looked shocked to hear someone blatantly insult the Malfoys. The corners of her mouth curled up into half a smile, and the friends relaxed. Harry had an overwhelming urge to ask 'who are you?' and he could tell by the look on Ron's face that he was thinking the same too, but the both of them were too polite to ask such a blunt question.

It was as if she had read their minds, but didn't want to give them the security of knowing the truth; the lady simply turned to leave and said,

'I suppose I'll be seeing you soon. It won't be long before we reach the school now.' Then she strolled away down the corridor. 


	3. The plot begins...

Chapter 3

The remainder of the journey passed quickly and uneventfully. There was some speculation by the friends about who would be the next Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

'Maybe that was her,' suggested Ginny.

'Don't be daft. She wasn't old and haggard enough,' replied Ron.

'Lockhart wasn't old and haggard,' stated Hermione reticently.

'True, but he was a total prat,' answered Harry.

'No,' continued Ron, laughing a little.' What I mean is she doesn't look like she's had enough experience to be able to teach us. I mean, we've had two supporters of You-know-who - one of whom was escaped from Askaban-, the total prat - who probably thought dark art was something to do with dying your hair-, and a werewolf who nearly killed Snape…'

'If only he had,' wished Harry out loud.

'…so far. What's left?'

They continued talking until the train stopped in Hogsmeade station. They alighted in pleasant enough moods, despite the tiredness. However, the first thing Harry saw when he got off did not inspire him with the warmest of feelings. Standing next to the queue for the carriages to take the students up to the castle was Professor Snape. He was arguably one of the best teachers in the school, but had a tendency to be nasty to most students - and Harry was no exception. Seeing the greasy-haired potions master standing looking directly at him now made Harry absolutely certain that nothing had changed from the previous year. Not that he had ever thought that Snape could alter his personality from one extreme to even mid-way in one season.

Harry paid no attention to Snape, but only looked on in mild curiosity as he greeted the mystery woman in a manner that could be described as nothing less than civil. All the while Snape kept glancing over at Harry.

'Is he trying to make me nervous, or something. I mean, I haven't even reached the school yet…' Harry said to Ron. But Ron was paying him no attention. He was too busy grinning. By this time, Harry had neglected to notice the lady had handed a bag to Snape, who had absent-mindedly taken hold of it. She began to walk off, and then he realised what he had in his hand. He set off after, not looking too impressed, but when he reached her she smiled sweetly at him. The forced smile that emerged in return would have scared small children, but it had Ron in stitches. Snape then helped the woman into one of the waiting carriages, and disappeared from sight as he got in himself.

'What a cheek - jumping the queue!' exclaimed Hermione.

'What did you expect Snape to do - be polite and wait in line?' asked Ginny sarcastically.

'He could have at least said excuse me,' replied Hermione, seeming rather irate about Snape's utter disregard for rules and conventions of politeness.

'Hiya, 'arry!' called a voice from next to the lake. The body to whom the voice belonged was surrounded by very small people. Although, anyone would've looked small next to Hagrid. 

'Hi, Hagrid,' replied Harry as he wandered by. 'See you in the Great Hall.' 

The four of them sat at the middle of the Gryffindor table when they reached the Hall. Before the feast would be laid on the tables, there was the Sorting of the first years to endure. Harry looked around and saw many faces he recognised and some that he didn't. That was one of the strange and scary things of his situation, he thought to himself. Everybody in the wizarding world knew his name, and probably more about his heritage than he did, but he still felt he knew so little about this world and so few people in it. 

He was distracted once more by Hermionie and Ron discussing who was who at the Teacher's table. Seated in the middle was Dumbledore, the headmaster. Harry looked at him and could tell something wasn't right - Dumbledore didn't look like Dumbledore. The first thing that jumped into his mind was polyjuice potion, but then he looked closer and realised that it was Dumbledore, only he seemed to have aged dramatically over the summer- he looked every one of his 150+ years. 

To Dumbledore's right was Professor McGonagall - the transfiguration teacher and head of Harry's house. Further along was the lady from the train. She spotted Harry looking and gave him a little wave. At this point the man she was talking to looked round at Harry also. 

'Who do you think he is then?' wondered Ginny.

Now there is someone I do recognise, thought Harry.

'Diggle. Dedalus Diggle,' he said.

'How do you know him?' asked Hermione.

'I met him in the Leaky Cauldron the summer before I started here. Bit of a strange kind of man, if I remember. He kept shaking my hand so much his top hat fell off.'

'Wonder what he's doing here,' thought Ron. Though the temptation to say 'teaching - obviously' was very great, Harry bit his tongue. He thought he might sound a bit too much like Hermione if he said it.

'They seem to be getting on rather well, don't they,' observed Hermione, possibly hinting at something Harry didn't understand.

'Snape doesn't look too happy, does he?' chimed Ron, sounding positively ecstatic about it. Ron was right. Snape was on the opposite end of the table to Diggle and was sitting next to Professor Sinistra, the astronomy teacher. Snape was obviously not pleased with where he was - Harry guessed, by the way he kept looking down the table towards Diggle's place, that he'd much rather be next to the mystery lady. Harry also notices the look of anger on Professor Sinistra's face when every time she tried to talk to Snape, he ignored her or told her to not be so boring.

Before the Sorting Professor McGonagall introduced Diggle, who was to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, and the 'lilac lady' from then on was revealed to be Professor Mooney - the new Muggle Studies teacher.

After the first years were allocated to their houses, the school was permitted to eat. The dishes in front of Harry filled with so much food, he was spoiled for choice. Something was distracting Harry, though. It was Dumbledore. Harry noticed, but doubted anyone else had, that the headmaster spent most of the meal sitting babbling away to himself. Harry knew that Dumbledore was reputed to be a little eccentric, but he was not, by any stretch of the imagination, 'crazy' enough to sit and talk to no one but himself for a full two hours. 

All of the Gryffindors were glad to retire that night. The day had been long and everyone wanted to get some sleep. But, try as he might, Harry couldn't stop his mind from racing. He told himself that he had only been back at the school for a matter of hours, and there couldn't possibly be anything going on. And yet…

He still couldn't understand why Fudge had been at Kings Cross with Professor Mooney. Or why she had got the train at all. The only other teacher he had ever seen on the train was Lupin two years ago… Eventually he drifted off into a dreamless sleep, which was a welcome state after the chaos that had been going on in his mind for the last few hours. 


End file.
